


Reunion

by CrawleyHouse



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:42:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28943154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrawleyHouse/pseuds/CrawleyHouse
Summary: Post-Exodus Reunion.This started out as one of the versions of "Home" from Entropy but obviously didn't make the cut. You can squeeze it in there if you squint and tilt your head to the right if you really want to but it can exist on its own.
Relationships: William Adama/Laura Roslin
Kudos: 12





	Reunion

His summons had surprised her.

There was no real reason for her to be aboard Galactica after all, but she was pleased none-the-less.

It was strange to arrive as a citizen, to move unnoticed and without ceremony through the temporary settlement in the hangerbay; save for the few children who smiled sheepishly from behind their parents and waved at Miss Laura.

She raised her hand briefly and mouthed a little ‘ _hello_ ’ from a distance.

She did not need the marine escort she knew he had sent, she knew the way, and was relieved when they knocked twice on that familiar hatch and then moved away. Obviously occupied with better things to do than guard the former President of the Colonies.

She had barely stepped over the threshold before she was practically pulled the rest of the way in. Losing her footing but unable to fall. Held tight as she was to the rock-solid chest of William Adama.

“Bill,” she laughed breathlessly, finding her feet, “Bill, the door.”

But he either did not hear her or did not care.

“You’re here.” He murmured like a prayer against her neck, “you’re here.”

Surprise finally waning, she returned his embrace, noting the subtle quake of his shoulders under her hands.

“I’m here.” She confirmed against his temple, “I’m here, Bill. I’m okay… it’s okay.”

He pulled away finally and clasped her face between his strong and capable hands. Looking at him for the first time since she had entered the room, since he had left New Caprica, swallowed in the dark depths of those blue eyes. So blue and so sad. Always sad.

“Hi.” She said, finally, with a self-conscious smile and watched with relief when it was mirrored.

“Missed you.” Was all he managed to husk out, though she thought she heard more in the quivering timbre.

“I know.” Her own voice quaking with the enormous relief that washed over her, barely able to reply at all before he captured her mouth in a bruising kiss. Her glasses clinking against his.

She moaned in mingled desire and protest, pushing gently against his chest.

“Bill.” She warned, turning her head away to break from his onslaught, forcing him to focus again.

“Bill,” and took a purposeful step away, “the door…” she repeated, a coy smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

He brushed past her without a word, the dull creak and metallic squeal signalling that he had locked the hatch.

She kept her back to him, the hair on the back of her neck tingling in anticipation. Gasping quietly when she felt firm hands upon her hips. She appreciated the change in pace, appreciating an entirely different head spin.

He gathered up her heavy mane to expose her neck, the heat of his open mouth against the soft of her skin buckling her knees.

“This isn’t smart.” She protested softly, tilting her head to allow him better access.

“You’re not President for another 36 hours.” He growled, intent on his task, “No conflict of interest.”

There was something close to desperation creasing the lines of his face when he turned her to face him again. She realized, for the first time, the entirely different kind of agony he had endured during the Occupation. She knew he had been alive, distant though he was, drifting through dark space. He’d had no such certainty until she had practically fallen through the hatch.

She took him gently. As if her touch alone could heal him. Surrendering to his embrace as he walked her across the room and backed her into his desk.

Her fingers had barely brushed the buttons of his uniform before he was tugging her jumper over her head. She made no move to stop him. Merely detouring to the closure of his pants as he made short work of her own, toeing off her over-large boots as he hoisted her onto the desk and stepped between her open thighs. The quiet gasp at the cold on her skin lost in a fierce kiss as she reached into his trousers to stroke the length of him until he twitched in her hand.

Her thumb teasing slick circles around his blunt head until he was rocking desperately into the smooth of her palm. Wrenching away when she squeezed gently in playful torment.

Eyes dark, she bit her lip with a wicked playfulness, but her soft giggle was lost in a harsh gasp as he yanked her across the desk and thrust up into her. Her eyes rolling in her head at the bliss of this homecoming.

He was stronger than she remembered, and she grasped his biceps to level herself against his bruising pace, every powerful stroke striking a delicious twinge against her cervix. Breathy pants rising to husky moans as he released her hip to knead her still bra-clad breasts.

“Bill!” she keened, the arch of her spine forcing him deeper, her fingers digging painfully into his arms. If his shoulders had have been bare, they would have left marks. He covered her mouth messily to swallow the short shriek that tore from her throat as she shattered around him.

Ignoring the polite knock on the door, and the enquiring ‘Sir?’, he lifted her bodily from the desk and drive himself home. Finally losing himself in her pulsing depth. Panting, with his forehead against her heaving sternum.

Laura wrapped her legs behind his knees, her fingers moving to his hair, holding him in place.

“It’s okay.” She murmured into his crown. “I’m here. We’re okay.”

She stayed with him.

Officially she had nowhere to be and no one to notice her absence.

She had drunk probably more than she should. But it dulled a deeper ache than the one between her legs and gave the illusion of a pleasant drowsiness she had not felt in a long time.

He was surprisingly capable of maneuvering her, half asleep, from his lap on the couch to the wall-side of his rack. Smoothing her hair away from her face with such practiced tenderness she was sure that it was a layover from fatherhood.

She had fallen asleep, of that she was certain but, she was not so sure that he had. Especially considering that she had awoken to the gentle tracing of fingertips along her arm. A dark, haunted shadow veiling his eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asked, seriously, and she worried she had spoken in her sleep.

“I’ll survive.” She murmured, crawling deeper against him and his warmth.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

For a moment she seemed like she was going to consider it.

“No.” she breathed, pressing a deliberate kiss into the hollow of his neck, “I just want to be here, with you, a just forget… just for a little while… until the universe crashes down on us again.”

She slept with him again. Properly this time. Frakked so thoroughly and thoughtfully she almost floated off to sleep. So wonderfully hazed that the soft words he whispered into her hair barely registered to her ears.

Perhaps that was better, she thought.

So thoroughly unable to hear or speak them before the Fall, she had no capacity for them now. Not here, at the end of the world.

And so, when he woke, Laura was gone. And when blue eyes met green across the crowded room, she was the President.


End file.
